


Four Shall Ride as One (Oneshots)

by BeezandBitches



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: But mostly it’ll be post-canon, Crack, Drinking, Everyday adventures, Family Drama, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt and comfort, Oneshot collection, Smoking, Some adventures through time as well, These could really all stand on their own, Theyre all gay too, funtimes with the horsepeople, romance too here and there, theres gonna be some angst not a lot tho, there’s kinda ocs but not really, they’re much more human than they’d like to admit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2020-09-01 18:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20262325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeezandBitches/pseuds/BeezandBitches
Summary: A collection of ideas about life for the Four Horsepeople both before and after Armageddon. Most chapters will be their adventures together but they’ll have solo adventures.





	1. Shopping Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four horsepeople head to the store.

The sun was one of War’s favorite parts of the universe. It was bright, it was hot, whenever she was on a battlefield the roar of sunlight did wonders to stress both sides out just enough to make them keep on fighting without taking a second to step back and think. Thinking ruined the fun of battle. Strategy was important, sure, but War wasn’t one to strategize. She wanted to just spill blood in the hot sun and send bodies tumbling like a game of dominos. 

The one part of the sun she didn’t like was when it would shine through her blinds in the morning and wake her up. 

War sat up from her bed and groaned, her hair looked like a tumbleweed had nested on her head.

“Carmine!!” The sounds of Pollution banging on her bedroom door didn’t make the morning any more pleasant. “Hurry up, we gotta go!”

“Hold your fuckin’ horses, Chalky!” She groaned as she got to her feet and rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?” She muttered and looked at her phone. It was in a red jelly case with a sword pop socket on the back. 

11:36 am. Nearly noon. And the sun still persisted. 

“Carm!” Another voice called out from behind the door. Famine. He sounded particularly annoyed. “Get up already! We’re going to be late!”

“Give me two minutes, you bitches.” War snapped as she cracked her neck and popped her shoulders while walking to her makeup vanity. She had no real use for it, as she would just snap her fingers and be ready for the day, fresh clothes and combed hair and all, but War did like the way real mascara looked.

She snapped her fingers once for her hair to look the way it always did, sleek and shiny and burning red like an ember. She snapped her fingers twice for her outfit, jeans and low-cut boots with a burgundy tank top and her favorite leather jacket. The third time she snapped her fingers was for her bedroom door to be unlocked and open, which lead to Pollution, who was leaning and banging on the damn thing, to come crashing in and land flat on their face.

“Ow..” Pollution grumbled as they got to their knees and shook their head. They then saw their friend taking her sweet time to do her makeup. “Red, c’mon forget the rouge. Let’s go we’re gonna be late!”

“I’m almost done, Chalks. Be a little patient.” War said as she painted her lips a bright scarlet red. It was her favorite color because of how much it reminded her of blood and because of how nicely it complimented her eyes.

“We’ve been ready for an hour!” They groaned as they got back up. “Have you forgotten what today is?” War gasped.

“I could  _ never  _ forget today! I’m insulted you even insinuated that I could!” She said with a flare for the dramatics. “I mean  _ really?  _ Today is just so.. so..” She sighed again, dropping the act. “What’s today again?”

“There’s a new Whole Foods-type grocery store opening today. We need to go cause a little chaos.” Pollution said. “You know, more sample tables with shitty portions. More sales on wine that make white moms start a catfight.” 

“More people getting trampled at the front door.” Famine said as he leaned in the doorway. “Shredding those stupid reusable bags so people have to use the plastic option.”

“Isn’t this a little below our standards?” War questioned as she finished her makeup. “I mean, considering the fact we’re the embodiment of humanity's biggest problems.” 

“If you wanna change your title to ‘Stupidity’ that’s your choice, Carm.” Famine’s joke only got him a fiery glare from the red rider.

“You know what I mean, dipshit.” She said.

“Armageddon isn’t starting any time soon. So we get a few decades of vacation and spending time together. This is just to make ourselves  _ look  _ like we’re doing something so Heaven and Hell don’t get suspicious.” He said as he helped Pollution stand up. “Besides, you love seeing people get into fist fights.”

“I do.” War nodded. Hand-to-hand combat was practically the first form of warfare. Seeing women in their mid 50s go at it was just icing on the cake.

“Besides, were out of fucking milk.” Pollution added. “And I want Lays.”

“Which kind?” War asked. “Because I could go for a thing of sea salt chips.”

“That shit is nasty as Hell. and you  _ know _ how nasty Hell is.”

“We can pick out whatever kind of chips you two want when we get there.” Famine sighed as he walked to the living room where Death was sitting by the door already ready to go, helmet and all. “Grim, please remind me to look at the cheese section because Frannie needs some field research done for Chow’s new extended line of ‘flavored cheeses’.”

“IF I MUST.” Death nodded.

“You’re doing field research for your own company now?” War questioned as she walked out of her room. “Did Frannie propose or did she fuck you really well because you’re the laziest bitch i’ve ever known.” 

“I'm the boss and I need to show initiative for my underlings.” Famine said as he grabbed his helmet. 

“You’ve shown Frannie  _ way _ more than just initiative.” She chuckled as she grabbed her own helmet.

“Less talking, more biking!” Pollution said as they finally grabbed their helmet. “I wanna go get like six free samples of sushi.”

“How do you know they’ll have sushi?” Famine asked as he unlocked the front door and started to leave.

“Got a feeling.” They answered.

“THEY WILL. BUT IT’LL BE CALIFORNIA ROLLS ONLY.” Death said.

“I’m fine with that.”

————

And so, the four went on their way to the grand opening. It was a big store with fancy lighting, a food court, and way too many vegan options for Famine’s liking. But, nonetheless, it was a playground of possibilities. 

“Alright, meet up at the exit in about..” Famine looked down at his smart watch. “25 minutes?”

“Make it 15. I love a speed run.” Pollution chuckled as they grabbed a metal cart like a battering ram, after chucking the container of hand wipes meant for cleaning the carts outside, hitting someone’s car window. “We need anything else besides milk and chips?” 

“WE NEED VANILLA.” Death said. They planned to make a cake later that night. And vanilla was their favorite.

“Make sure to get the imitation stuff.” Famine said. “One of my personal favorite inventions.”

“Got it. Carmine? Any requests?” Pollution turned to the redhead who was too busy looking at the wine racks. More specifically, looking at a woman down by the wine racks who was giving samples. “Carmiiine?”

“Oh leave her, she’s preoccupied.” Famine said as he fixed his jacket’s cuffs. Even in a store like this, he wanted to be the best dressed. Stroke his ego a bit. “I’ll handle the produce and meat section. Anything you want specifically for dinner?”

“Salmon. The fancy kind.” Pollution said. “They farm the hell out of those things.” 

“Got it. Now we’re off.”

And like dust to the wind, they scattered through the store. 

————

After 15 minutes, three small Pam spray-related fires, two shelves being knocked down, many veggies and meat- save for two and a half pounds of salmon and a carton of mushrooms, -starting to rot and spoil, all of the freezer section losing power, a fight video being posted to youtube, and a very lucky sample server getting whisked off her feet by a dame with fire in her eyes and hair, the four horsepeople finished their transaction at the self checkout line. They then walked out of the store together.

“I think that was a pretty successful shopping trip.” War said as she put on a pair of sunglasses that she didn’t own, but a girl who was serving wine did. 

“I sent Fran all my research. I think ‘Havarti flavored Chow’ will be a good starting point.” Famine said as he popped a small chunk of cheese into his mouth.

“The sale on chips was great.” Pollution said as they dropped their now-empty bag of Lays on the ground.

“WE RIDE HOME THEN?” Death asked as they made their way to their parking spaces.

“Before the salmon spoils.” Famine said, holding up the plastic bag which held a nicely preserved salmon.

“It better not, that ones mine!” Pollution protested.

The four left as unannounced as they came, leaving chaos in their wake.


	2. Incoming Call: Frannie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Famine has one weakness. His assistant.

Famine was a powerful being. Not just in a literal sense, but in an economic sense. He owned the most successful dieting and food supplement business in the world. He was rich, he was well-known, he was able to fulfill his duties and keep the world hungry with the most success he’s had in decades! The only thing he couldn’t do..

“You  _ cannot _ be serious, Mr. Sable!”

Was calm an angry Frannie.

“Frannie, I have everything under control.” Famine said into his phone which was wedged between his shoulder and his cheek as he was prepping dinner. It was his turn to cook, and ironically enough, he didn’t mind. He actually liked cooking quite a bit, despite his job description. It helped to know exactly what made food tick though. Tonight was mushroom chicken with mashed sweet potatoes and a white sauce. 

“You have sixteen business meetings piled up from four months ago!” Frannie was frantic. Famine knew that just from how her voice broke when she was yelling at him. That only happened when she was pissed or when she was having sex. “You  _ need  _ to get home! We had to push back the release of Chow in the south because you couldn’t make the release tour!” 

“I told you to go on without me.” Famine didn’t expect to stay in England for so long. He expected the Apocalypse to be well and going on by now. But no such luck. “My hands are tied, Fran.” They really weren’t, he was just being stubborn.

“Oohhh, I’m going to  _ destroy _ you when you come back.” His exasperated assistant sighed. If she only knew what he had been through in the days following his departure. “ _ Please,  _ tell me you at least got to those files I sent you. They need to be looked over in the next day.”

“Of coourse I did.” Famine lied. He hadn’t checked his work email in the last few days. He had been busy binging  _ ‘Gossip Girl’ _ with War. There was a heavy sigh that came out the phone’s speaker followed by a pause. Famine expected more scolding than that. “Frannie?” 

“Raven, I gotta go.” Frannie broke her silence. Her voice was drenched in some tone that Famine couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it didn’t sound good. “Just.. Get back to me when you’re done, ok?”

Before he could even respond, she hung up. The beep of the call ending left a weird knot in Famine’s stomach. He didn’t take notice the smell of his chicken burning because of it. He also didn’t notice the heavy ‘slam’ of a bedroom door.

“Raven what the fuck is that-” War walked in the room shouting. She was ready to eat him alive because of the previous stated smell. Burning bodies smell better. She noticed the look on his face. Twisted in slight worry. “..Everything alright? You look like you just saw an all you can eat buffet.”

“Huh?” Famine snapped out of his trance and looked at the not-so-friendly redhead. Then he finally noticed the chicken. “Oh, shit!” He quickly turned off the burner and covered the bird’s pan with a lid. “Sorry, about that.”

“It’s fine. We’ll order take-out. But seriously, everything cool?” She asked.

“I just got off the phone with Frannie.” He said, putting his phone down. 

“She leaving you for another rich, powerful, supernatural entity or somethin’?” War asked as she walked over and took the pan from Famine’s hands. 

“She was upset with me because I haven’t really done any work since- ya know.” He watched War miracle the failed meal into a hazard waste bin. “But, Frannies never sounded like that.”

“Maybe she really is ready to leave your company.” War suggested, no ill-intent in her voice but those words stung all the same. “I mean, you  _ are _ slacking.”

“We’re all slacking.” Famine retorted. War gave him that  _ look.  _ It read as though they both knew what he was saying was bullshit, but he just wouldn’t admit it.

“See, Rav, the difference between quitting my job at the news network and you ignoring your work as CEO of a multi-million dollar company is like.. well,” She tried to find a good comparison, but nothing really quite compared to that. “Exactly what it seems like.”

“So what are you insinuating?”

“I’m insinuating your precious Frannie is getting fed up with you playing house here with us.” War said. “And like, we deserve our time together, obviously. But you did leave her pissing in the wind.”

“I don’t like those words put together like that.” Famine shook his head. 

“You get my point.” War yeeted the hazardous chicken out of their sixth-story living room window, which it landed on the hood of a poor passerby’s car. “Do some work for a change. A break from your break. Or hire new people.”

“Hiring people costs money.” 

“So does buying your  _ favorite _ human court side tickets to her favorite basketball team’s games. Every season. Or new jewelry. Or a fancy computer that she has to do both yours and her work on.” 

War knew all of Famine’s little secrets about Frannie. She was the one he turned to when he started drinking and just  _ had  _ to ramble about his ‘adorable, five-foot, dynamite bitch’ of an assistant who he was totally _ not  _ in love with, despite having slept with her a few times. She thought it was karma for how often she would tell Famine about her excursions with famous women. 

War was never quite sure if witches were all that powerful, but she wouldn’t of been surprised if Frannie had put him under a spell because he would turn to mush from being around her for too long. It was sweet in a tooth rotting sort-of way.

Famine pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t lose Frannie, even if he was sure she wouldn’t ever have the gall to quit. She was his best employee and the most well-organized person he’d ever met. Losing her would be like losing his head, he knew that. 

“I  _ suppose  _ I could look over the files..” He said. It was so much easier to just show up to meetings, look presentable, and do all the talking. Paperwork wasn’t his strong suit. But, with Frannie so backlogged he had to start pulling some weight as CEO. 

“Good. And buy her a new set of earrings.” War said as she started scrolling through a food delivery app. “And me one too. Since I helped you and all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fame said as he opened up his email to twenty different documents all about twenty pages long. “Hiring people doesn’t seem so bad right now..”

———

It was closer to midnight in the UK than it was in the U.S. when Famine got a call. It was from Frannie, so naturally he picked up no matter what time it was. That was something odd about Mr. Sable. He never seemed to sleep when he wasn’t with Frannie. Even then, Frannie had only ever caught him dozing once. His arms were draped around her waist under the sheets of her bed, fingers curled finely into the bedding as he pulled her closer. He looked different when he was asleep. It was like he felt peaceful for the first time in years. What she didn’t know, was that was exactly the case.

“Hey, Fran.” Famine said, trying his best to smooth over whatever the day before was. “I looked over all the papers you sent my way. Finished ‘em up.” It has taken six and a half hours plus three venti caramel frappés to finish the digital mountain of paperwork that needed to be done, but Famine did it. 

“That’s great. Thank you, Mr. Sable.” She said. There was a bit of distance in her voice before it cracked. “How’s.. How’s England?”

“It’s good. Family’s good.” She wasn’t exactly wrong in suggesting that the other Horsepeople  _ were  _ his family. It was just a little more complicated than that. “How’s everything with you?” 

“Good. Mom’s still wondering when I’m gonna get a ‘real job’.” Frannie half laughed. It was a laugh that humans tried to use whenever they were uncomfortable, or they really didn’t find the situation funny but wouldn’t own up to it. Famine was sure some frog-wearing demon had come up with it.

“You’re the most vital piece in a business worth more money than the country of Estonia. I would think that’s as real as a job could be.” Frannie couldn’t help but smile when he said she was important. Made it feel real.

“Yeah well, she’s still upset that I didn’t become a musical theater major like the rest of my family. One random uncle stars in the original performance of  _ ‘Fiddler on the Roof’  _ and suddenly we  _ all  _ need to put on our jazz flats and storm Broadway.” Frannie could go on for days about her mother’s incessant need for everyone to know their time step keys for their family performances but she didn’t feel like talking her boss’ ear off. Even though he would gladly listen to her talk about anything, anytime, anywhere. “She says I could’ve been the next Indina Menzel. Maybe I don’t wanna be the next Indina. Maybe I just wanna be Frannie.” 

“Frannie is fantastic, you don’t need to be anyone else.” Famine said, leaning back on the small black leather couch in his room. “You do have an amazing voice, though.”

“You’ve never heard me sing.”

“Oh but I have.” Frannie’s eyes went wide with realization. Oh Lord, she sings in the shower sometimes. 

“Raven!” She squeaked in embarrassment. Famine laughed, but not at her. “You’re not supposed to hear that!”

“But you sound like an angel.” Famine didn’t exactly know if most angels really sang that well. The vaguest memory of a singing angel he had was a very long time ago in Egypt, and that angel was pretty off key. But, you know the line.

“It’s the shower’s acoustics.” 

“Bullshit, it’s you, Fran. You’re fantastic at everything you do. Whether it’s sing or file or put up with me. I’m definitely going to hire you a few assistants of your own, by the way.” He said. “Because that was a lot of work.”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, so the help would be appreciated. Also, I don’t have to ‘put up’ with you, thank you.” She protested. “I happen to like you.”

“Ooh, and maybe I like you too.” 

Both of them wanted to use a different L-word. But, admitting that over the phone a million miles away would only make it harder. There was a time for it. That time just wasn’t now, even if they both felt it.

It was funny, Famine was so powerful and important, and yet the only thing he couldn’t do was make himself say what was in his heart. 


	3. Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pollution is having a hard time making sense of it all.

Unlike the other Riders of the Apocalypse, Pollution didn’t only ride a motorcycle. They also dabbled in skateboarding from time to time. And by ‘from time to time’, I mean they had gone out skateboarding every friday night since the Summer of 1992. 

At first it was just out of curiosity. They had seen a group of teenagers rolling around on them while in Mexico City soaking up all the limelight as it was crowned ‘The Most Polluted City on Earth’ thanks to Pollution’s hard work. Why a wood board with wheels and wacky colors on it had intrigued them so much was anyone’s guess, but they took to it like a moth to a flame. 

They would spend Fridays skating through the nearest city’s streets under the cover of night with only the faintest buzz of half-lit street lights guiding them through the maze of the concrete jungle, a lit cigarette usually hanging from their mouth and a trail of trash following them on the wind. It helped them clear their head and focus on the big picture. All of this was leading up to something, something big. And they’d be there, with their friends, to end the world they worked so hard to ruin. It would be beautiful.

This didn’t stop after Armageddon, not by a long shot. Sure, the time between being stabbed out of existence and recorporating was wasted because of a bunch of snot-nosed kids lead by their ex-lord, but that didn’t mean nearly three-decade old routines could just be stopped. Pollution was, if nothing else, like their handiwork in the sense that they were long lasting. Once something starts being part of their routine, it doesn’t just go away.

But, they had agreed to stay in England with War, Famine, and Death just incase the Antichrist reconsidered Armageddon. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. And every single friday night, Pollution would sneak out of their bedroom window with their skateboard in hand and a masterful disguise on. A filthy backwards baseball hat and clothes that looked like they had been hidden in the far back of a Goodwill since The Backstreet Boys were still topping the charts. But, it was all so they could go skating without getting caught by the others. They needed to. All of this was too much to handle.

Pollution rode their board, which they dubbed ‘Copper’, through the streets of London. A lit cigarette hung loosely from their mouth. They never got into those electronic versions that Pestilence had tried tinkering with. Real tobacco left a greater mark on the world at large, and they liked how poisonous it smelt. Cotton candy scented toxins couldn’t quite compete. They inhaled and let the smoke linger. But even then, the wave of tobacco didn’t do anything to help.

The city was louder than usual that night. A garbage truck had swerved off road as Pollution skated by and crashed into a lightpost. The smell of waste hung heavy in the air but it didn’t make the Horseperson feel any better.

The lights down by St. James park were still lit, so they decided to ride that way. They skated past couples still on romantic dates, drunkards who were too busy laughing and drinking away their cares, and so many ducks. Like, ridiculous amounts of ducks. The amount of _ love _in the air was ridiculous. And it was only making them feel worse.

Pollution screeched to a stop at the edge of the water, their proverbial heart beating out of their chest with every passing second, head pounding in rhythm. It just didn’t make any sense! They took the still lit cigarette out of their mouth and angrily threw it at a duck who hissed at them before running away. They clenched their fists as they grabbed the three-foot fence enclosing the waters.

“_ I hate this fucking planet! _” They yelled out into the distance, getting weird looks from onlookers. That didn’t matter to them. All that mattered was the pure rage inside them. Pollution leaned over the fence, practically feeling themselves get smaller. They hissed as tears as black as ink started to form in their eyes and drip to the ground. This wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair..

“CHALKY.” Pollution’s head bolted up as they looked over their shoulder and saw Death standing behind them, others around were frozen in time. They tried to wipe away their tears before they could see them.

“What’re you doing here, Grim?” Pollution asked. Grim, given name ‘Azrael’ but best known by his title of ‘Death’, walked over to their side and placed a skeletal hand on Pollution’s shoulder. It was weirdly tender. As tender as someone who was a skeleton could be.

“I AM EVERYWHERE, CHALKY. YOU KNOW THIS.” 

“I know..” Pollution muttered. So much for their disguise.

“WHAT TROUBLES YOU?” Death asked. “TEARS AREN’T BECOMING OF A HORSEPERSON.”

“Does that even matter?” They asked, the toxic feeling spread from their tears to their tongue. “It’s not like we have a purpose anymore.”

“THE REAL QUESTION IS, DID WE TRULY EVER?” Pollution looked at them with confusion as they let go of the fence. Surely they _ had _ to have had a purpose. They were, well, them! The Four Riders of the Apocalypse! That was what they were made for! Right?

“We had to.” They answered. “I mean.. Look at us.”

“IF THAT'S WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE, THEN SO BE IT.”

“Grim.. Do you ever feel like we weren’t meant to exist?” Pollution asked. “Like, ok, we weren’t. Humanity sinning and all that. But-“ They sighed. “I can’t word it right.”

“BUT EVEN THEN, THE FORCES THAT BE NEVER ACCOUNTED FOR US TO EXIST PHYSICALLY?” Death answered their question with another question.

“Bingo!” Pollution said. “I mean, they never really _ needed _ us. If they wanted another war so bad, they could’ve just _ had _one. We were just..”

“A SCAPEGOAT. YES.” Death nodded. The sound of a silent wind came from their bony mouth. “A MEANS TO THEIR END.”

“So if _ we _destroyed humanity for them, they didn’t have to get an earful from God.” They said. “And we would’ve just..” They popped their mouth and hand. “Poof. Right out of existence.”

“ALL BUT WAR HERSELF.” 

“Maybe. But I doubt it.” Pollution said as they leaned back onto the fence and looked up at the sky. “Whoever would’ve won would’ve probably killed her.”

“A TWISTED EXISTENCE WE LIVE, DON’T WE?” Death asked. Their little white haired friend nodded.

“Do you.. do you know if Armageddon will ever happen?” Pollution asked. “I mean.. That’s why we’re here, afterall.”

“...NO.” Death simply said.

“So then, what do we do now?” 

“...I'M NOT SURE YET.” Pollution laughed, but in a twisted sort of way.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?” They said. They stared up, a small, somber smile growing on their face. “..Look at all those stars. Every single one of them is like us. One purpose. One long, boring existence. Then poof.”

“OUR EXISTENCES ARE NOT AS BORING AS WE THINK.” Death said in a way that could only be described as ‘comforting’. “AFTERALL, YOU HAVE TAKEN TO A HUMAN ACTIVITY THAT SEEMS TO HELP YOU.”

“What, skating?” Pollution asked as they picked up their board. It was dingy and old, and definitely had cracked and fixed a number of times with the help of miracles. “I guess so.”

“WE HAVE FOREVER ON THIS PLANET. BEST TO ENJOY THE TIME.” Death said. “THAT INCLUDES UNDERSTANDING HUMANITY. WERE NOT SO FAR FROM THEM, OURSELVES.”

“You can’t be serious. We’re nothing like them.”

“NOT ON THE SURFACE. BUT THE DEEPER YOU LOOK, THE MORE MORTAL WE SEEM.”

“Now you’re just talking crazy, Grim.” In reality, they were very right. Pollution just wasn’t ready to hear it. They tugged at Death’s robes and let out a gentle sigh. “But, thanks. I appreciate you coming to see me..”

“OF COURSE. IF YOU HAVE ANY FURTHER PROBLEMS, CARMINE AND RAVEN ARE ‘ALL EARS’ AS IT WERE. THEY CARE IMMENSELY FOR YOU AS WELL, CHALKY.”

“They have their own problems.” Pollution shook their head. They didn’t wish to burden them, not like this.

“NO PROBLEM IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN OUR OWN.” Death put their arms around Pollution in a hug. It felt like they had never hugged anyone before, as tense as a set of bones could really be. But, Pollution accepted it, hugging back.

“Thanks.. I’ll see you at home.” They whispered.

“SALUTATIONS.”

Time began again just like it had been going on this entire time, the only difference is Death’s disappearance. Pollution watched those around them for a few minutes, before getting on their board and riding off, feeling a tiny bit better about this whole ‘eternity’ thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing what listening to Avril Lavigne on repeat for an hour can do. Hope y’all enjoyed, and if you did leave some kudos and comments because I love hearing from y’all! Have a lovely day.


	4. Iridescent Aphrodite, Deathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War meets someone at Dionysia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went into a gay fever writing this lemme tell yall

Dionysia was a joyous time. Those in the streets would laugh and sing and perform in honor of Dionysus, god of wine and madness. It was quite a spectacle to behold, and it was one of War’s favorite pastimes during her stays in Greece. The raving drunken madness could turn bloody at the drop of a drachma, it was just up to her where it would start. The noise was like a war on the senses too, so she quite enjoyed it.

War sat perched up on a stone wall a distance away from the city, a goblet filled with a hearty wine in one hand, watching the party below. In these days she wore her dazzling red curls up in a wild array that resembled a crackling forest fire, complete with gold hair pieces weaving through it. Her dress was a light and floaty chiton, stained red with the finest dye the human body had to offer. It was held together by golden clasps at her scarred shoulders and a girdle made of scorching sunlight which rested around her waist as a warning sign to those who saw her. Jagged golden jewelry wrapped around her forearms like the chains of a prisoner, ready to choke out those who opposed her. Her sharp blue eyes were like the sky before a storm, sparks of lightning glistening in them. At her side was a worn spear that she had used on many poor souls unlucky enough to find themselves at its sharpened tip. Her mouth cut at its edges like a twisted dagger, drawing forth the essence of chaos to her wild smile. It was as if Aphrodite Areia herself walked the Earth. Elegant and deadly, with a trail of dismembered men in her wake.

“Long time no see, old friend.” Her eyes snapped to her side and saw Famine, who hadn’t been standing there no more than a moment prior. His outfit was as black as the night sky, and it attracted some strange looks from those who expected festivities and not a funeral, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Ah, Raven. How goes things in Egypt?” She asked.

“Things are well. Plenty of crop failure. And you? Surprised to see you out of Sparta.” He chuckled. War only rolled her eyes in response.

“Sparta may be mine but I do enjoy a good wine here and there.” She said before taking a sip from her goblet. “Helps.”

“How so?” He asked, taking a seat beside her.

“For one it makes humans much more aggressive. Many festivals are riots waiting to happen. But I’d like to enjoy myself first.” War said. “Any word from Wyn?” Pestilence, a gangly older looking man known only by his fellow three as ‘Wyn’, tended to work alongside Famine as their roles went hand in hand. It’s not like they were really good friends, not yet at least, but that’s what their work demanded. The first few centuries consisted of a lot of awkward partnership combinations until the group of four considered themselves more than co-workers.

“He is working on a disease for the city as we speak. I invited him to come, you know how much he loves alcohol poisoning, but he was too busy.”

“Shame. Could’ve been fun.” War said. Her eyes wandered back to the city before them. “...Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be among them?” she asked, her voice cooling from thoughts swirling in her mind.

“I suppose I have, a few times.” Famine nodded.

From that far up, humanity was like a hill of ants. Distant and minuscule in comparison to the two of them. They tried not to spend much time among humans unless they had to. Humanity was just chess pieces for the Great Plan, and the four of them were the current players. They had been there for two centuries and only watched, never initiated without reason.

“I’d like to. At least once.” War admitted. “Have a drink in the crowds and not on a cliff. Dance with a pretty girl.”

“So it’s the women you seek?” Famine gave her an eye like he knew that’s how she swung all along, but didn’t openly say it.

“Have you _ seen _ them?” She asked rhetorically, gesturing out at the sea of Athenians. “If I didn’t know better I'd suggest Aphrodite was real and had blessed these lands herself.”

“The women are quite nice. The men too.” Famine said. “Especially in Egypt. The Pharaoh’s son?” He let a rough chuckle slip through a row of sharp teeth. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know him on a personal level.” 

“Why have we never done it before? Mingled, I mean.” War asked. 

Famine hadn’t had an answer for her, it was just something that had always been. So in his response, a simple shrug, War stood from her seat and finished her wine in one smooth drink.

“Well, if there’s no _ real _ rule, I am going down there. Perhaps I can drive the city into chaos with my wiles.” Famine laughed at her display.

“Your ‘_ wiles _’? Scarlet, please, you’ll make me vomit.” He said. “But your idea does sound entertaining.”

“I’ll find the most lovely woman and sweep her off her feet!” War proclaimed. “Watch me!”

Before Famine could protest or cheer her on, she was already off into the swarm of civilians as fast as her sandals could carry her. Her very essence around the chaotic festivities lead to a few brawls between civilians, but no grand riots yet. No, she chose when those happened. Now wasn’t the time.

The people would part for her as she ran through their sea. It was best they did, lest they wish to be trampled by a sapphic on a mission. War wanted to find the most beautiful woman at the celebration, and she wouldn’t stop until she did. So she scanned her eyes over every person she could in an attempt to find a diamond in the rough. A sparkling beauty who stood out beyond the rest.

As she ran, War didn’t take time to notice who was right in front of her, slamming face first into the back of a person, tripping and sending them both tumbling before falling on top of them. She was slightly dizzy, yet ready to take off again in an instant, only to be stopped by the groan of the person below her. 

When War looked down, her eyes went wide. The girl below her was more than just lovely, she was practically divine. Her figure was that of a sculpture the people would worship in their temples. Her pearl white chiton wrapped over her like a veil. Her skin was a dark mocha color, her shoulders covered with spots as though she had been kissed by the sun. Her lips were full and her nose was similar to the head of a spear. Her hair spilled over the stone path like a splash of ink flowing down a piece of papyrus. When the girl opened her eyes, two golden stars shone back at War, meeting her own blue ones. War may have been like Aphrodite Areia, but this girl was Aphrodite Urania herself.

“I-I-“ War was trying to find any word that wouldn’t come out of her mouth a garbled mess. “A-Are you ok?” 

“I’m alright.” The woman said, wincing a bit from the pain still in her skull. “Just a bit bruised.” 

War only scrambled off her when she saw her moving to sit up. Had that not happened she would’ve been frozen above her much, _ much _longer.

“My deepest apologies.” She said. “I uh- I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“It’s just fine, miss.” The woman smiled at her. War’s face immediately heated up like someone had set her on fire. “A little scrape never killed anyone.”

“Quite wrong you are, starlight.” War thought to herself. Scrapes could in fact kill people. Pestilence did his damndest to make sure of that. She helped the girl to her feet. “Could I.. get your name?” She asked.

“Helena. A pleasure.” The woman offered her hand, which War took almost too eagerly. She had found her diamond. “And you?”

“Scarlet. And the pleasure is all mine.” War kissed Helena’s knuckle in a display she had seen between a pair of soldiers once. Her eyes trailed up to meet Helena’s. 

“Oh, my..” She whispered, dazzled by the fireball of a woman before her. War was one to always be admired from afar, and up until then, no one human had gotten that close to her. 

“Perhaps we could..” War mused. What would be a good ‘courting’ idea? “..Have a drink together?”

“I think that would be lovely.” Helena smiled. War’s sharp eyes began to soften just from the sight of her beautiful grin.

From the edge of the rippling sea of Athenians, Famine watched as his dear friend ran off with the woman who would be her first everything. It was sweet, really. Two Aphrodites, under the same shimmering sky, in one another’s arms, the sounds of wild, beautiful fun all around them. How poetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some love kudos and comments I love hearing from y’all, have a lovely day!


	5. Are You Verified?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pollution’s secret is exposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I make this? Because I felt like it. Pestilence is up next I just had to get this off my mind.

Saturdays were an average day in the Rider Household. (Technically, according to the lease, it was the Sable Household. But War wouldn’t be caught dead saying that outloud.) It usually consisted of War getting up at noon, getting ready, then plopping her butt in front of the living room TV and binging whatever shitty comedy show from the 90s to Mid 2000s currently interested her. This week, it was ‘_ Will and Grace _’.

The day started out as smoothly as any other. War dug her hand into a bowl of mixed snacks and pulled out a fistful of only pretzel sticks. The tv was playing a random episode from season six when all of a sudden, War could hear the bashing sound of _ something _hitting the floor repeatedly, not far away. It was loud, it was possibly metallic, and it was annoying.

Famine had stepped out while on a business call with Frannie, meanwhile Death was out on business in the city. Now, War had heard more than her fair share of weird noises. Especially when someone died, they made a ton of weird noises. Usually blood curdling screams of agony, but War had no blood to curdle. Least, she was pretty sure she didn’t have _ normal _ blood.

“The fuck is..” War muttered, pausing Hulu and getting up from her very comfortable couch groove. She then went to the most likely source of the sound. Pollution’s room. She opened the door as she began to speak. “Chalks, what are you-“

Standing before her was Pollution in a bright blue t-shirt, possibly no pants, their hair tied up in a shitty bun at the top of their head, a row of fake puka shells around their neck, like four scrunchies on their wrist, and a _ metal water bottle _in hand. War’s eyes went wide as if she had just witnessed a four-person pile up, except that would’ve easier to stomach than the sight before her.

“Carm!” Pollution yelped, quickly tapping their phone which was set up against their bookshelf. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“I don’t even know _ what _ I'm looking at.” War blinked as though she was speaking morse code. “What the fuck is- What?”

“Let me explain.” They said as they undid the hair bun.

“If you’re not wearing pants I _ will _kill you on sight.” War said, turning her head away. Pollution sighed.

“No, I am.” They lifted the shirt to show off a pair of black shorts much too short to be considered clothing. “I’m making fun of VSCO girls on TikTok.”

“What does that even mean, Chalks? I’m 6,000 years old, remember that.”

“Ok so TikTok is like Vine. You remember Vine?” Pollution asked before continuing. “Well ok, so on TikTok there’s this culture of preppy girls who are super obnoxious and make a noise like this.” They then made a “sksksk” sound. “and use reusable water bottles called hydroflasks and metal straws. So to combat that-“ They lifted their own white hydroflask which was adorned with colorful stickers. “I dress up like one and make annoying videos so people start hating the trend and purposefully use plastic out of spite. Genius, right?”

“So to go against the trend of buying alternatives bottles.. you bought an alternative bottle? For the joke?” War tried to follow their train of thought.

“Well-“ Pollution blinked and looked at the water bottle, then back at War, then back at the water bottle. “..It made more sense in my head.”

“Have you ever considered focus group testing your ideas? And by that I mean running it by people with brain cells?” Pollution rolled their eyes. 

“Look, it’ll work. I got this.” They said. “Besides, you’re old. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Excuse me, you trash bag! I’ve made entire empires fall with just the wave of a finger!” War gasped, rather insulted. “Let me see this ‘TikTok’ shit.”

“No.” Pollution said, grabbing their phone and holding it close. “My plan, my privacy.” War only raised an eyebrow at them before walking inside.

“Give me the-“ War reached for the phone, only for Pollution to recoil.

“No!”

“Chalky!”

Pollution tried to make a break for it as War grabbed for their phone a second time. They dodged her hand, running around her and out the bedroom door as War followed in hot pursuit. It was like a Tom and Jerry chase scene through the living room and kitchen, complete with Pollution diving over the kitchen island as War ran around it.

“Chalky! Give it here!” She screeched, hopping over the coffee table.

“I’d sooner die!” Pollution yelled, running through the master bedroom.

“Oh you will if you don’t-! Ah!” War quickly dodged as the white hydroflask was thrown at her head before popping back up. “Seriously?!”

The screaming and chasing continued until Famine and Death walked in the front door, the latter holding a pizza, and watched the whole event go down.

“Hey, hey!” Famine shouted, stepping in front of their path. “What is going on? We were gone an hour!” He then scanned Pollution’s wardrobe with his eyes quickly. “Also Chalks _ what _ are you wearing?”

“They’re being a little bitch and won’t let me see their TokTik account!” War said, pointing at Pollution’s phone. “Also they threw a hydroflask at me!”

“It’s called TikTok! And Carmine doesn’t need to see it because fuck her!” Pollution stuck their tongue out at War who was about ready to charge the little white bitch before being held back by Death’s hand.

“CHALKY.” Death said in a way that only a parent would. “SHOW CARMINE THE ACCOUNT.”

“No!!” Pollution whined. “Grim, I-“

“NOW.” 

Pollution made a series of grumbles and complaints before reluctantly handing the phone to War who snatched it from their hand.

“See, was that so hard?” Famine asked as he walked over to War’s side. “I wanna see too.”

“AS DO I.”

“Noooo, not you two too!” Pollution groaned as they fell dramatically on the couch, face in hands and all. “I can’t look. Tell me when it’s over.”

There was a minute of silence that Pollution could hear, only for their fellow riders to start actually looking at the videos. Then, they were able to recognize all the audio they had lip synced, danced to, or otherwise used on that shitty app. Beetlejuice songs, that one song from Six, Daddy by Blueface, a couple random comedy clips, and even Obsessed by Mariah Carey. At least they nailed the dance on that one.

“Are you done tormenting me yet?” Pollution called out, only to not hear their responses. They slowly uncovered their eyes and turned to the others and saw them all very confused. “Which video are you watching?”

“...Why did you make a video called ‘POV You’re sitting at lunch with the kid who’s always trying to be a hippie and recycle’? You’ve literally never been to school.” Famine asked.

“It’s part of my plan!” Pollution said. “Kids are obsessed with social media so if I make green shit look annoying they’ll hate it.”

“I THINK YOU JUST ENJOY THE ATTENTION.” Death said. They weren’t wrong. “200k FOLLOWERS. IMPRESSIVE.”

“Where did you learn to bust it down like that?” War asked. “I’m genuinely impressed.”

“That’s just natural talent.” Pollution said, flipping their hair back. That just earned them an eye roll.

Everything seemed ok from there on.

Well, until..

“Oh my fuck!” Pollution yelled as they slammed their door open. “Carmine, Raven, stop dueting my fucking videos you’re just getting clout from me! Grim, you’re fine but you need to take your thumb off the camera!”

And the three of them never stopped dueting their videos.


	6. There can’t be Five, can there?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where has Pestilence been all this time?

Early retirement was the best decision Pestilence ever made. Sure, he enjoyed his work. He still dabbled in it from time to time, starting anti-vax parenting threads on the internet and giving mosquitoes a plethora of fun diseases at their arsenal, but relaxing on the beach in Cabo with his pet rats beat imbuing drywall with asbestos any day. 

He had been on permanent vacation for over 80 years. Pestilence, at first, was rather miffed that a young toxic sprout like Pollution was going to take his rightful place riding to Armageddon with  _ his _ friends. But, after thinking it over, about twelve martinis, and one hell of a case of alcohol poisoning he came to the conclusion that it was for the best. Pollution was a fresh face who deserved a little limelight after all. And he was an old crone who needed a decade of shut-eye.

Pestilence had used whatever penchant came from being an ex-horseperson to buy a little house on a secluded, craggily beach down in Mexico. He always liked Mexico. The heat was incredible for stewing in illness. It also was great for his allergies, no grass nearby meant no pollen. He hadn’t sneezed since he entered retirement. 

He wasn’t alone in his new home, however. No, Pestilence decided after a while alone that he needed a little noise in the house and the TV playing reruns of Food Network shows didn’t quite cut it anymore. So, he picked up some pet rats. He had gotten five of them, one for every ten million people who died to his magnum opus, the black plague. Their names were Stewart, Rhubella, Buddy, Jenner, and Rascal. Pestilence adored them.

His schedule consisted of waking up at dawn, every bit of daylight was not to be wasted anymore as the impending Apocalypse drew closer, and doing stretches on the sand. It did wonders for his ancient corporation. He may have looked like a withered old man, pale and thin and adorned in a light gray outfit, but he felt like a new being. After stretching he would let his rats out for a run around the property. They would always come back to him after an hour or so. Next, Pestilence would prep breakfast for them and himself. His meals always came out rather burnt, but he enjoyed the taste regardless. Between breakfast and lunch, he would sit at the waterside and read, or fish, or even nap on the ground. Whatever he felt would be best that day.

One summer day, a large shadow cast over Pestilence as he rested in the sand. He opened one eye slowly and was surprised to see his old friend Death standing above him.

“GREETINGS, WYN.” Death said. “I SEE RETIREMENT TREATS YOU WELL.”

“It does. Good afternoon, Azrael.” Pestilence said as he sat up.

“IT'S ACTUALLY ‘GRIM’ NOW.” They corrected him, getting a nod of acknowledgement in return.

“How goes business?” Pestilence asked. Death took a seat beside him, his two blue pinpricks locked on the sea.

“IT IS AS ITS ALWAYS BEEN.” They say. “CONSISTENT.”

“..And the others? Carmine and Raven? How about that new sprout?” He hadn’t seen his friends since.. well, he tried not to think about it. They didn’t exactly part on good terms.

“THEY ARE ALL WELL. CHALKY IS MAKING QUITE THE NAME FOR THEMSELF.” Death said. Chalky, huh? “CURRENTLY CARMINE IS IN TURKEY. RAVEN, IN AMERICA.”

“Busy as always.” Pestilence nodded. “Fancy of you to stop by, but.. I doubt it’s just for a chat, am I wrong?”

“THE END APPROACHES, WYN.” Death answered. “I FEEL IT IN THE AIR. THE ANTICHRIST WILL BE BORN ANY DAY NOW. 11 YEARS IS ALL WE WILL HAVE LEFT.”

Pestilence bit his lip. So this was really it, huh? Eleven more years on his little piece of Eden. Eleven more years to enjoy the sunrise before it’ll never rise again. Eleven more years until..

“I don’t see why you’ve come to me, then.” Pestilence said, standing up as quickly as his old bones can allow. “I’m no longer a Horseperson. I turned in my crown. It’s the sprout’s job now.” He started to walk to his front door, only to be followed by the looming black figure of Death.

“I ASK THAT YOU JOIN US.” They said. This makes Pestilence freeze, his hand clenched around his doorknob. “WHEN THE FINAL RIDE COMES.”

“..We both know there can’t be five of us.” Pestilence shaked his head. “That’s not how it was written.”

“AND YET, FIVE EXIST.” Death persisted. “WYN.. WE MISS YOU. ALL OF US.”

“Really?” He laughed as if it was a joke. “I was certain Raven and Carmine hated me. You know, after they said they hated me.” He opened his door and walked inside, Death following his every step. 

“THEY DIDN’T MEAN IT. IT WAS A HEATED MOMENT.” 

“They resent me, Grim. And I know you resent me too.” 

“I WOULD NEVER.” Pestilence turned to look at his old friend. His dull gray eyes met Death’s sockets. Blue and daunting, like the thinnest of needles poking through the void. “YOU ARE OUR FRIEND, WYN. OUR FAMILY. COME HOME WITH ME.” Pestilence couldn’t stop light, milky tears from filling his eyes. 

“Don’t you understand?” He said. “ _ This _ is my home. Me here with my rats. With the endless horizon over the bottomless sea. This is where I can be free. It’s where I’ve  _ been  _ free.” He wiped his eyes with his long, ratty sleeve. “I’m happy here.”

“DO YOU NOT MISS US?” Death asked, their voice wavering.

“Of course I miss you. All of you.” He sighed shakily. “But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the choices I’ve made. It doesn’t change the fact that I don’t  _ want _ this all to go up in a puff of smoke.”

“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?” They knew the answer already.

“I’m saying the Apocalypse shouldn’t  _ need  _ to happen! We should just be allowed to be  _ us  _ wherever and whenever we go, forever! Fuck both Heaven and Hell and their Great-fucking-Plan!” Pestilence flailed his arms wildly, shooting the middle finger to both the sky and the ground.

“I WISH IT WAS THAT SIMPLE, OLD FRIEND..” Death sighed. 

“Why can’t it be?” He asked, no, pleaded. “I don’t understand why it can’t be.”

“IT IS NOT FOR US TO UNDERSTAND.”

“I.. It was nice to see you, Grim. But, I’m going to have to decline the offer.” Pestilence shook his head. “You can show yourself out, I just.. I need to go check up on my rats.” He walked out of the room, leaving Death standing in the living room alone. The air was heavy with dread and painful memories. 

As they turned to leave, they spotted a framed photo by the front bookshelf. It was an old photo, perhaps one of the first, but it was of Pestilence and three familiar faces. Death said nothing when he saw it, only turning and leaving after a minute. 

———

Pestilence never would join the others for the final ride. He had seen the destruction on TV and witnessed the Kraken itself near his beach, and braced for the end with his pets close by. He regretted not going, in all honesty, but only somewhat. This was his Eden, and he didn’t want to leave the Garden until the very end.

The very end came and went, and when Pestilence awoke the morning after, he found a sticky note with an address on it and a plane ticket to England in two weeks on his bedside table. It was as if the universe was trying to tell him something. 

He took a leap and went, following a set of directions on the note to a luxury apartment building not far outside of London. 

He parked his motorcycle by a row of four as he went to the specific door on the right at the end of the hall.

He tensed up as he went to knock on the door, but he knew that if he didn’t, he’d have more regrets than Armageddon. So, he swallowed his fears and knocked.

The one to open the door was his replacement, they were white haired and taller than him, but only by a slight margin. The two of them had never met until then. And from the looks at it, this new Horseperson was busy unpacking a set of boxes in the kitchen.

“Are.. Are Carmine, Raven, or Grim home?” Pestilence asked. “I’m Wyn.”

“Oh, they’ve told me about you.” Pollution said. They’ve spoken about him? They turned to yell into the room. “Carm! Rav! Grim! C’mere you have a visitor!”

Pestilence watched with baited breath as his old friends all came to the door, eyes wide and surprised he was there.

“Wyn..” Famine muttered.

“You’re.. you’re here!” War said, motioning to him.

“I came to.. well, apologize to start, but.. also to catch up, if you’d allow me in.” Pestilence said, a hopeful yet melancholic smile on his face. Before he could even step foot inside, he was wrapped in the arms of the friends he thought he had lost long ago.

“Shut up.” War sniffled, holding back tears as she hugged him. “We missed you, dumbass.”

“More than you can imagine.” Famine said. “We’re so sorry for what we said.”

“I TOLD YOU.” Death whispered to Pestilence, who couldn’t help but laugh behind his grin, tears dripping down his face.

The four became five, and while Pestilence wouldn’t live with them, it was finally like the family was together again. Pestilence even took a shine to the new sprout, who showed him how to use a cell phone so he could facetime the rest of them whenever he pleased. 

Eden may have long been gone, but Pestilence’s new Eden was his home, Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a turn halfway through writing it and I ran with it. Also think of the plane ticket as Adam putting everything back where it’s supposed to be


	7. Family Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death brings home a surprise.

When you not only live with supernatural beings whose sole purpose is to bring calamity to the Earth but you yourself are one as well, you can expect to wake up to a few surprises every now and again. Sometimes War will run in the front door, drenched in blood, holding four tickets to a sold-out movie. Sometimes you’ll catch Pollution signing the delivery notice for 300 _ ‘Garbage Pail Kids’ _ toys and claiming them as their ‘new army’. Sometimes you’ll even walk in on Famine, the man with three-thousand years of experience in culinary arts for work-related purposes, standing over a bubbling pot that is spewing out a mysterious gray ooze which smells like tarragon and is also on fire. They’re all kind of cracked, but in fun, possibly harmful ways. 

Now Death is another story. Death wasn’t a wild spirit by nature. They weren’t really anything by nature. The only things certain about Death was that they were ineffable, they were omniscient to an extent, and the only emotional ties they ever had was to their little family of troublemakers and one other. But that’s another story. 

This, right here, is the story about the time that Death brought home a kitten.

It was a stormy afternoon. The lightning had shut out the power in the whole building save for apartment 66B, which currently had enough power to keep three of its four supernatural residents content with a marathon of ‘_ Will and Grace’. _

“You know if you think about it,” Pollution sprawled out on a loveseat tucked in the edge of the living room. “We’re kinda like Will and Grace.”

“Chalks, shut up.” War said, clicking the volume up. She was sitting cross-legged in the one good recliner which they had labeled “No Chalky Allowed” because it would’ve been a mess otherwise.

“No but listen, we’re all gay and live in the same apartment.” They said.

“One day I need to teach you how to compare and contrast with a diagram because that’s literally all we have in common with them.” Famine said. He was leaning his head on the armrest of the couch. “Besides, Grace is straight. Also there’s four of us.”

“Look at her face and tell me she’s straight.” Pollution argued as they sat up. “You’re just like Karen.”

“I am not!”

“No, no, they’re onto something there.” War nodded. She started listing off the ways with her fingers. “Can’t do work to save your life, rich, kind of a bitch.” Pollution laughed as Famine flipped War off, only for him to get a similar gesture in return.

Before they could continue, the front door clicked open to reveal Death, their leather-clad outfit transforming into the looser black robes they had worn since the beginning. The only reason they even had a change of clothing was due to the robes getting caught in their motorcycle’s wheel. That and it fit the group aesthetic better.

“Hey Grim, hot question-“ Pollution spoke up before the unmistakable sound of meowing cut them off. The three of them turned to look at each other before turning back to Death.

“What was that?” War asked, blinking as she muted the TV.

“It sounded like..“ Famine started.

“Like a cat.” Pollution finished.

The meows didn’t silence, and they all slowly stood up from their seats and went over to Death, who hadn’t budged from the doorway. As they did, the meow got louder.

“Grim?” War said “Something you wanna share with the class?”

Death’s bony hand gripped at their robe, pulling down the hood to reveal a baby kitten lounging on their skull. It was a smokey gray little thing with a nose as pink as a pearl. It could fit perfectly in a teacup if you really attempted to put it in one. It was meowing up a storm that could rival the one outside.

“THEIR NAME IS ASHA.” Death simply said as they took the kitten from their head and held it in their arms like it was a newborn.

“Where did you get it?” Pollution asked, attempting to poke the kitten, only to get pawed at.

“I WAS TASKED TO COLLECT THEIR MOTHER. I HAD DELAYED THAT ONE TOO LONG, DESPITE MY BETTER JUDGEMENT.” Death quite liked cats. They would actively avoid collecting their souls as long as possible before they physically couldn’t any longer. “THIS LITTLE ONE WAS LEFT IN THE RAIN BESIDE HER.”

“So you just took it?” Famine said. “We don’t have any stuff for a cat here. I don’t think so, at least.” He looked around for anything they could use in the meantime. “Fuck, what do cats like? Tuna?”

“It’s a baby, dipshit.” War said. “It needs baby stuff. Milk and a pillow. Maybe a bottle and some toys.”

“I have a bunch of spare blankets in my room, we can use that as bedding.” Pollution said as they pointed with their thumb toward the hall.

“Your ratty old linen will kill the poor thing.” She said. This only got her a harsh glare from the younger rider. “At least wash them first. They probably have fleas.”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“ALL IN DO TIME, BOTH OF YOU.” Death boomed as the other riders turned back to them. “FOR NOW, ASHA NEEDS FOOD. MILK IS PREFERRED.”

“I’ll get some from the fridge.” Famine said as he walked to the kitchen and retrieved some milk in a saucer, which he put on the floor. Death let Asha down and bent down to watch as they waddled over to eat. The others followed their lead.

“So how long are we gonna keep it?” Pollution questioned.

“FOR AS LONG AS ITS NATURAL LIFE WILL ALLOW.” Death said.

“Do you really think the four of us are qualified to take _ care _ of something?” War wasn’t wrong in her assumption that this may in fact not be a good idea. After all, it’s not like the four of them were _ meant _ to care for anything. Their purpose was destruction and demise. Seemed like the opposite of their nature, really.

“Wyn has his rats.” Famine reminded her. “So it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that we could do a good job.”

“I guess.” She shrugged. 

“WE CAN GET SUPPLIES FOR IT ONCE THE STORM CLEARS. UNTIL THEN WE CAN OBSERVE IT.” Death said. The others nodded, never taking their eyes off Asha.

Asha slurped at the milk, getting it all in their fuzzy little face but not having a care in the world. It was really, really cute.

————

It took all of three days for the remaining riders to get attached to the little gray kitten.

Pollution was the first, picking up Asha from the couch it was laying on and holding it with one hand, practically ready to cry from how tiny it was. Natural wildlife wasn’t normally their cup of tea, but no being can deny the pulling power of a mini kitten. They had even put a few blankets to wash for it, while wearing one-use gloves of course. Couldn’t let soap get anywhere near them, but it was for Asha. They could make an exception one time.

Famine came second. He was found reading a book in his room while stroking Asha’s back gently. Apparently they had climbed up into his lap and made themselves comfortable and he couldn’t dare move now. That was like, an unspoken law of reality. He had also been spotted smuggling milk dishes for the whining kitten whenever it still wanted a treat after its feeding time. It was one of the only occasions Famine would indulge something rather than deprive it.

War was last. She had decided to take a picture of Asha while they slept, only hearing the faint purr of the baby once she snapped the photo. She then sat at its side to admire the little creature. War knew that inside such a tiny body was the power to hunt and kill just as good as any animal. The power of a warrior lived in everything, after all. It was clear when War would sit by Asha’s side and the little thing would wrestle with her finger as though it was a whole other creature. Tiny scratches from kitten paws were nothing compared to battle scars, after all.

Death would be the one who would take Asha out for rides with them. The baby seemed to really enjoy the open road, peeking their head out from the crevice of Death’s jacket to feel the wind on their face. They would like to lick their skull whenever close enough. Sometimes even, Asha would stare dead at Death’s tiny blue pupils before belting out a loud ‘mrow!’ as if to tell them they saw something. 

Whenever the four walked together as a group, Asha would follow at the heels of whoever was the farthest behind. It was their way of saying they were part of this family too. And they absolutely were, and would be for a very long time.


	8. I Walk This Lonely Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Riders should probably take inventory more.

“What do you  _ mean  _ you didn’t bring any backup gas?!”

Being supernatural beings came with a lot of perks. Never needing to eat, bathe, or sleep. Functional immortality with a few minor catches. Really good memory. Well, that last one is a little iffy. It was kind of a hit or miss for most.

You see, Pollution, the sweet little greasy weirdo themself wasn’t exactly carrying the “good memory” gene. Did they remember to bring snacks everywhere? Yes. Did they remember to never bathe? Yes. Did they remember to bring an extra tankard of fuel for them and the other riders during a long ride into the English countryside just in case? Well..

“Look, I’m sorry!” Pollution yelped as they dodged a very angry War who was chasing them around with a tire wrench. Famine and Death leaned on their bikes, watching the two run around their own bikes as War threatened to discorporate Pollution.

“You’re gonna be sorry, you little garbage baby!” War screeched as she angrily waved the wrench around. At least she came prepared. “Were in the middle of bumfuck nowhere!” 

“Technically, were not too far from Tadfield.” Famine said as he checked his phone. One other perk? Great cell reception anywhere you went. Sadly, you didn’t get to miracle gas into your fucking bikes. “Bout.. 10 miles.”

“Yeah and that’ll take like two hours by foot.” War said as she hopped over her bike to cut Pollution off, only for them to dive around her as fast as possible. “Little fucker!”

“They have a gas station.” He said. “Best option we got.”

“Ugh, I hate it when you’re right.” She groaned, stopped chasing the poor white-clad rider, and grabbed her bike by the handles and started to walk up the side of the road. “Let’s get going. I wanna get home before I discorporate Chalky.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Pollution said, following her lead.

“Let’s go.” Famine sighed as he started walking too. Death followed silently behind.

————

They made it maybe a two miles up the road before Pollution started humming. What were they humming? Well, Famine and War couldn’t recognize the tune, but Death gave Pollution a silent nod of approval.

“Ok, so,” Famine started. “If you had to choose between being discorporated and having to do the opposite of your job, what would you do?” Might as well play a game, it was going to be a long walk.

“Broad description.” War said. “Like, in my case would I have to go to peace rally or, like, not shout ‘Worldstar!’ whenever highschoolers start going at it?” 

“You shouldn’t even do that last part.” Famine snorted. “But, fuck, I guess the peace rally.”

“Mm..” She thought it over for a second before speaking again. “Peace rally. I’d probably vomit from the amount of olive-branch wielding assholes around but being discorporated hurts. We know this.”

“Speak for yourself, I’d rather be discorporated.” He said. “I haven’t worked in a professional kitchen in two decades and I never will again.”

“Oh it cannot be  _ that _ bad.” War scoffed. “Maybe for you,” She gestured to Famine with fluttery fingers. “Mr. Embodiment-Of-Hunger lookin’ ass.” 

“Working in a professional kitchen is like being in Hell, but worse on your back and you have to actually feed people!” He said that like it was a bad thing. In his case, yes it was. “You take a couple years to study food in a modern kitchen and  _ all of a sudden _ you become the head chef, which  _ sounds  _ good because you can run the place into the ground, but no!” He was starting to get a little worked up. “It just means you have to work twice as hard as every other motherfucker around!”

“Why did you even do that, Raven? I know you’re a masochist when it comes to the smell of food but c’mon!” She stopped walking, letting the others follow her lead. “Studying  _ in  _ a kitchen? You didn’t see me shaking it up when they signed the Treaty of Versailles!”

“It’s different!” Famine argued. “Food is a science and an art that I have to destroy. Can’t take a car apart without knowing how to put it together.”

“Yes you can!” War said, almost bouncing as she said it to push her point. “You absolutely can! It’s called use a crowbar or a bat, or in your case, a meat mallet!”

“Yeah, like a brute maybe! Some of us have tact, Carm.” 

Famine was, if anything, dedicated. He didn’t like things done half-ass. He liked his work in order, functional, and steady. The world had been chaotic once, much more than it was now, and he was  _ always _ busy. People were always starving. And while it got his metaphorical numbers up, it also meant he never could catch a break. Running from one continent to another just for a simple spell of crop failure. It was a lot of work. And no matter how dedicated Famine was, he hated having to work. Ironic. So, he put his efforts into processing foods and writing diet books, taking his thousands of years of hands-on culinary expertise- he hated calling it that, made him sound like a hypocrite. Which he was one, but still- and putting it to good use. Got him numbers and got him an excuse to take time off.

“Oh whatever.” War rolled her eyes as she started walking again, the others following. 

She was just as dedicated as he was, but her strategy was much more quick and easy. Explode, destroy, shoot, stab, whatever word you look for to describe what she did wasn’t the point. It was all chaos in the end. Didn’t matter what parts went into it, it was the same in the end. War had to get used to being content with it pretty early on. 

“Well what about you, Chalks?” Famine asked, snapping the younger rider out of their melodic daze.

“Hm, what? Sorry I wasn’t listening, I was thinking about anime.” Pollution turned back to look at Famine who only had a look of confusion on his face. Since when did- never mind. The question still stood.

“Choose between discorporation or having to help one of those ocean clean-up boats.”

“Oooh..” They gritted their teeth in thought. “Discorporation, definitely.” 

Famine’s laugh and War’s eye roll was all Pollution needed to know they stumbled into one of War and Famine’s world-famous tiffs. War hated it being called a ‘tiff’, sounded like a type of shitty cloth. But squabble and row sounded stupid. So it was a tiff. They didn’t fight often but when they did, oh lord, stand aside. Pollution knew better than to get involved.

“Just because Chalks says discorporation is worse doesn’t mean that you’re right!” War argued, her head nearly snapping all the way around to give Famine a glare that if looks could kill, would’ve done the job.

“No but you’re outnumbered.” Famine grinned, his sharp teeth bare and wicked.

Pollution did the smart thing and lead their bike to Death’s side while the others started to argue, again.

“Psst, Grim, how much farther?” Pollution whispered to the taller skeleton.

“SEVEN AND A HALF MILES.” 

“Greaaat..” They muttered.

The argument lasted all the way to Tadfield, past the Them who watched a little ways away from the (mostly) unsuspecting riders as they filled up their bikes, and even kept going until they got back to the apartment. 

The only way it ended up finally stopping was by Pollution turning on the speakers and blasting shitty anime music until Famine and War had to team up to catch them and grab the remote. 

It was a good thing they did too, because War was  _ this _ close to slashing the TV in half with the shortsword she kept in her room.

Death only watched the chaos, not wanting to admit they had headphones in for the majority of the day, listening to ‘chill anime beats to relax/study to’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really tired but i wanted to finish this chapter. 
> 
> fun fact from my culinary class for the day: you weak you die, respect chefs


	9. Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pestilence thinks about the night he broke the news to the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s back, baby.

There were many nights in the history of the world that the four Horsepeople liked to forget. Several of them had been because of embarrassing amounts of alcohol shared between them, the long, lonelier, somber nights of introspectiveness for each of them, the nights after losing a lover.. There was a lot of shit they tried not to think about.

For Pestilence, in particular, he had hoped to not think about one night in the winter of 1936 ever again. However, whenever he sat alone in his little coastal home late at night, staring out the window at the ocean, the thought of it would come racing back to him.

He had called the other Horsepeople on the phone and told them to meet him in New York, they could get drinks and catch up. He mentioned that he had some important news to tell them, and he hoped they’d be there quick.

Luckily- or maybe not so- they had gotten there in a relatively quick manner. Famine had been spending some time in the Soviet Union, surrounded by all that snow he liked so much, while War was busy down in the western states, causing a new kind of ruckus all her own. Rumor had it she had picked up a new girlfriend for a while there too, until she died. Tragic, really. Death, well, they were everywhere at all times. And Pestilence assumed they already knew his news, and hoped they wouldn’t blow his announcement.

They’d met up at a hole-in-the-wall bar, real quiet place that only saw a few patrons at a time just as a precaution on Pestilence’s part. He didn’t want a big fight to break out or the entire place’s supply of onion rings to rot before he had a chance to explain to the others that, well-

He was retiring.

The news wasn’t easy for anyone to hear, much less for Pestilence to say. 

“You cannot be serious.” War shook her head, her words coming out with a laugh attached you them, like it was supposed to be a joke. Pestilence’s silence was all the proof she needed. “Wyn! Say something, dammit!”

“Carmine, this was inevitable. Humanity- tricky little bitches, the lot of them. Always coming up with new solutions to old problems.” Pestilence sighed, taking a long swig of his drink.

“That doesn’t mean you just- just- give up!” She slammed her hands on the table, rocking it heavily and nearly spilling everyone’s cup over. “What kind of immortal being of chaos are you?”

“One that’s looking at the reality of things.” Pestilence said.

“Bullshit!”

“Carmine, calm down-“

“Wyn, she has every right to be mad.” Famine said as he stood up beside War, leading her to sit back down. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Raven, you if anyone should see where i'm coming from. Humanity, it-“

“They keep trying to take us down, all of us.” He snapped. “But that doesn’t mean we throw in the towel. We never have, we aren’t starting now. Neither are you.”

“That isn’t your choice to make.”

“It’s not yours either!” War said. “You can’t expect us to just let you go, can you? We’re the four horsepeople, not three! We have a job to do, like it or not!”

“That doesn’t mean you need  _ me _ .” He said. “The universe will provide a replacement for me. I’ve already gone through the proper paperwork.”

“So what’s the point of all this then?” War growled. “Why even bother letting us know to our faces that you were a damn coward? You could’ve just slipped away, left a note.”

“It wouldn’t be right by you.”

“Right by  _ us _ ?” Famine gaped. “You got a lot of nerve, Wyn.”

**ENOUGH**. The three of them turned their attention to Death, who pushed their drink aside aa they stood. **LIKE WHAT WE HEAR OR NOT, WYN HAS MADE HIS CHOICE.** **THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN DO TO CHANGE IT.**

“Azrael, you cannot be serious.” Famine asked. “This is- this is  _ beyond _ ridiculous!”

**IT MAY BE. BUT IT IS THE WILL OF THE GREAT PLAN. ** Death, Pestilence could swear it on his own eternal grave, sighed.  **I LOOK FORWARD TO MEETING YOUR REPLACEMENT, PESTILENCE. ** The use of his official title sent a chill down his spine and left a bitter taste in his mouth. But, before Pestilence could speak, Death was gone. Not one for goodbyes, huh?

War was the next one to stand again. She shot Pestilence a glare that felt like fire and venom and the mauling of a hellhound all over his skin. She let out a hiss from between her clenched teeth before turning away.

“Enjoy your  _ fucking  _ retirement, Wyn.” She muttered as she stormed out of the bar. Within the next few days, China would declare war on Japan. Seems War had found a place to take out her frustrations.

Famine and Pestilence sat alone for another 10 seconds of soul-crushing silence, before Famine too got up from his spot.

“I do wish you’d reconsider.” He shook his head. “But, I doubt I could change your mind.”

“Raven..”

“You made your bed, now lay in it.” Famine fixed his collar as he turned. “Take care, Wyn.” Before leaving too. 

Pestilence sat alone in the bar, sipping a long-since-gone-rancid glass of beer for another hour before he could find it in himself to peel himself from the seat, making sure to leave a generous tip for the poor bar workers who had given him glances of pity, as to them he was just a sad, lonely old man. Which, wasn’t too far from the truth.

When he walked out into the snow, the frost nipped at his nose viciously. He let out a sigh that had been trapped in his chest since the moment he had originally walked in. 

This was really it, huh? The world kept moving, always spinning, and yet ol’ retired Pestilence stood still, watching the snow fall gently from the sky. He outstretched his hand to catch a flake, watching it melt quickly in his grasp. He wished he could take back his regrets, but no. Not his retirement. 

That was  _ his _ choice. Really, his first choice. One that, while it aligned with the Great Plan, was one all his own.

He felt eyes watch him from an alleyway, and he chuckled.

“You can come out now, Albus.” He said, not turning to face them. “I know you’re there.”

Out from the shadows walked a young person with white, snowy hair and white clothes. Though, you could hardly tell their clothes color from the amount of coal dust that coated them. This was Pollution. Pestilence’s replacement.

“I didn’t want to ruin your moment.” They said, waking over to his side.

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” He shook his head, ruffling their hair, to which they groaned, but only a little. “What’re you doing here?”

“I.. I was hoping to meet the others.” They admitted. “But, I guess they left already.”

“Ah,” He should’ve expected that. They were one of the gang now, made sense they wanted to introduce themself to their fellow Horsepeople. “Yes, they did. They.. didn’t take the news lightly.”

“That’s not good..”

“No, it’s not.” He shook his head.

“Do you think they’ll hate me?” Pollution asked, a twinge of anxiety in their throat. They were like a kid in contrast to Pestilence.

“Oh, Albus, they’ll adore you. You just have to give them time.” He turned to them. “Under all that.. pettiness and spite and anger, they’re very caring. All three of them. I only wish I could have them still believe that I care about them.”

“They may forgive you,” Pollution suggested. “In time.” Pestilence only shook his head. 

“Doesn’t matter now, what's done is done.” He sighed, his chest finally loosening. “I should be going. You promise to take care of them for me?”

“Like they were my own.”

“They will be.” He nodded. “Oh, they will be.”

That night in 1936 was never an easy one to think about, but it always came back to him. Always.


End file.
